


this is not what you wanted/not what you had in mind

by orphan_account



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, if you hate lewis you probably won't like this sorry not sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-16 07:18:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7257892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Baku, Dany attempts to be social. Shit backfires. Lewis happens a lot, in a good way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	this is not what you wanted/not what you had in mind

**Author's Note:**

> Hi I am Formula 1 trash. I write a fic like once every seventy two years when I'm suddenly in the mood and I'm too terrified to have anything beta'd but no one else was writing this and I really needed it and sometimes you gotta be your own enabler.
> 
> Title from 'Bad Kingdom' by Moderat, which is quite a good Dany song.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Carlos is shaking his head at him, “I’m mad as hell - and I didn’t - well. I don’t know why you stay calm.”

Dany shrugs. There isn’t a great deal to it; he can be calm and everyone will hate him or he can be angry and they’ll hate him. You make your own luck.

“It’s not yoga, if that helps.” Pyry had suggested it - turned out attempting to empty his head was a great way to let the thoughts he was trying not to dwell on take full control, leading to what was embarassingly close to a panic attack in downward dog. There were limits to the level of humiliation he could take in exercise gear.

“No offense but that hadn’t occurred to me,” Carlos seems amused enough about the idea to have pulled himself out of his funk a little, at least. Dany can’t really cope when they’re both depressed, it’s too much - he’s doomed, of course but Carlos still has a bright enough future ahead of him, if he doesn’t get fucked sideways by the Caffeine Wanker Twat Academy like all the rest of them.

He pinches the bridge of his nose - he really doesn’t want to think about that happening to Carlos. Carlos is sunshine and grit and smoulder and he’s too stubborn and ambitious for it to happen. He’ll just try and forget that it’s happening to Dan, the whole business is -

“You got a migraine?” Carlos is hovering and he realises he’s still holding the bridge of his nose with his eyes scrunched shut. Good job on ‘keeping it calm.’

“Nn- we’ve got two weeks until Austria, let’s go and have a beer” - the words are out of his mouth before he’s really thought them through, he never initiates beer-going and tends to try to leave earliest when he’s dragged out. It’s no fun being the weird, sullen stick insect. But then it’s not like he’s going to have a barrel of laughs looking at telemetry and no longer being able to enjoy a box set without a slight feeling of impending doom, so.

Carlos looks delighted - they’ve got to go change out of race gear at least but Dany knows his teammate needs a bit more socialising from him than he’s been giving and Carlos has been so _good_ that it’s actually kind of horribly shameful, so. Beers. Beers beers beers. Dany’s sure he knows how to do this ‘relaxation’ thing.

“I have never heard you repeat ‘beers’ so many times, hey? Did Dan teach you to have fun?” Shit on it, he has to do something about the verbal diarrhoea. It’s bad enough during races. Carlos looks fucking _delighted_ though so he’ll let it go just this once.

“Yep. Beers, mustaches, dancing lessons,” oh god, it’s like a physical hit - he jostles Carlos lightly to disguise the flinch. Ugh, time to take Daniel off the dwindling ‘safe to think about’ list.

“Ok, ok - I will change, see you at the bar? Fernando can get us into the good one,” Dany reads what face he must have pulled at that idea from Carlos’ - not just _beers_ but _other drivers_ which is just - “you have to be 21.”

And ok. Dany does not blame Max. Not really. They’re all just moveable objects between immutable forces. But he has had a bit of a problem attempting to feel happiness whenever the teenager’s in the room, what with the crushing sense of failure, inadequacy and shame. It gets a man down, being eviscerated by a junior in your old fucking car. And he doesn’t _actually_ want to trip him up but it’s maybe best if they avoid being in the same place at the same time just in case.

Carlos is looking up at him with a sort of dark eagerness that would be flirtatious if it wasn’t that they’d tried going there, _repeatedly,_ oh god and it just didn’t seem to work as soon as they actually made contact. “Ok, yeah, the good bar. Give me ten minutes?”

“Fifteen! Put on a good shirt. _Not the plaid one_!” Carlos is weaving off through the crowd towards his motorhome, which Dany assumes is full of an array of disturbingly well-fitting, dark purple shirts that somehow don’t make Carlos look like a twat, unlike the one time he furtively attempted the look in a designer changing room. Some people are just born not-twat-looking and for everyone else there’s the classics. He’s got a suit somewhere, even if it’s far too hot to contemplate a tie or jacket.

\----

“You are here!” Shit this is a horrible error already. Dany is being sort of… splash-clobbered by Fernando Alonso, who has a glass of white wine and apparently zero intent to actually drink any of it so much as distribute it round the rest of the paddock’s clothing. Not that Fernando’s actually aiming for him, of course, so much as _through_ him to Carlos but the knock-on _drinkiness_ effect is the same. He finds himself pondering the telemetry - _‘box, box, you’ve got a wet left nipple, repeat, wet left nipple - box box box.’_

A cackle of laughter that he doesn’t recognise goes up behind him and he nearly jumps out of his skin, too distracted by sudden bodily moistness and the fact Fernando seemed to be attempting a bridal carry on his teammate.

“Oh my _god,_ oh _my god_ has he done the thing where he drinks straight after retiring? _Oh my god-”_ It’s Lewis. Uncomfortably close and clapping a hand on Dany’s shoulder, which exacerbates the shirt-to-wet-nipple issue in a clammily unpleasant way.

“Err.” He’s never actually spoken to Lewis. None of them really do, apart from the older ones - his current and former teammates and Seb and Kimi. And Daniel but no need to stray into the no-thoughts zone before he’s even had his first drink.

Lewis pushes round him, sinuous and without taking his hand off Dany’s shoulder, “Christ, it’s like 2008 except he probably won’t punch me if I speak to him,” Dany is distracted by how _short_ Lewis is because he obviously had seen the guy before but never whilst standing on tip toe and leaning on Dany’s shoulder, so, “Still, maybe won’t risk it. Do you want a drink?”

“You uh. You don’t normally come to the bar.” Dany feels himself being propelled out of the doorway by Lewis’ grip on his shoulder and it reminds him a little of danc- _no, not thinking about it._

Lewis guffaws again and it’s the loudest, most raucous noise that Dany has never associated with him - the softly-spoken world champion, by the time Dany had reached F1, at least. And kind of private and moody and ...he had dogs. That was basically all he knew, racing aside. Dogs and a guitar.

“You’re hardly life and soul of the party, mate” - _no no no no no don’t think about it-_ “and it’s a new circuit, have to wet the head.”

The expression is - that’s disgusting, if that’s what Dany thinks Lewis means. And he thinks Lewis probably isn’t disgusting, although he was teammates with Jenson, so who knows - Kevin has certainly never been the same. Also this social situation is way more than he signed up for and he’s suddenly feeling a bit downward dog again.

“Drinks - my round” Lewis continues to propel him across the room to the bar and Dany vaguely tries to process English because his brain isn’t really firing on- ok, drinks, that’s what they’re here for, he can restart from here.

“Uh,” ok, good work, Kvyat, that’s a great start. Or middle. Hard to tell which section they’re in, to be honest - he usually waits until a few drinks in before he’s covered in wine and being guided around by an elder.

Fortunately Lewis roundly ignores him at the bar, ordering a bottle of champagne and waving off everything but the ice bucket and two glasses. He pushes his sunglasses up and actually looks Dany in the face, which is a new level of terrifying. Dany finds himself stuttering again as a glass is pushed into his hand and Lewis tilts his to clink them - “To this total fucktruck of a year.”

Ok, Dany can agree with that. He’s actually smiling as he drinks, trying not to dribble it all over himself or something. 

“I’ve been. Uh… I’m not actually amazingly great at this ‘wise elder’ thing - shit, Seb was winning so long I kind of forgot I’m not the young upstart anymore. But I’d been meaning to talk to you.” Lewis is smiling ludicrously brightly, as though Dany is his favourite person he could have met and it’s actually extremely unnerving because even Carlos doesn’t do that and Carlos is, like, the best person in Dany’s life.

“Mmm… why?” Dany has actually had a whole set of them try it. Jenson, with some degree of success because god _knows_ Dany really can’t complain about being in an embarassing car or being lapped by people younger than him, comparatively. And Felipe, who was nice - much too nice - at a point when Dany couldn’t really deal with niceness. He should apologise to him for that. Fernando had a go but it involved a convoluted metaphor and something about rage and pride that Dany thinks he may just not have the temperament for and then when he saw Sebastian coming he just threw himself through the nearest door and shut it because there are _some_ limits.

“Look man... you are handling this fucking well and I know you’re probably about ready to throw a punch at the next person that says that, so fair play to you if I’ve just hit the last nerve - put the glass down first, though - but-”

“I’m not going to punch you.” Dany is completely horrified by the concept - he’s not from that bit of Russia, whichever bit it is. Punchystan Oblast.

“Ok, good.” Lewis actually relaxes a bit against the bar, as though he’d thought it was a serious possibility- “I didn’t really have that control, when I was,” he swallows a bit, “your age - but I guess me and Nico were pretty used to fighting, so…” for a minute, Dany thinks he’s going to stop completely, looking quite distracted and intense. But it passes and he’s back to the edge of agitation, fidget-y and maybe a bit… _hyper?_

“Look, anyway. I’m not going to give you a lecture. But if you _need_ them not to hate you - quit now. They’re going to. They love a fall, even if it’s unfair - maybe even _especially_ if it’s unfair. You’re going to have to be the guy that gets hated, which _sucks ass_ but also once you get over it, it’s yours. You wear it like armour, everything they say about you; do everything they hate more - like I don’t know, you read and stuff, don’t you? Write a fucking novel, if it keeps the fire burning. Know what you are and they can’t do a fucking thing about it - like, err, Tyrion.”

Dany discovers he’s downed his drink- “What?”

“Did I say that wrong? I’ll be honest- I got that from Seb, I don’t watch Game of Thrones. But I saw some gifs and it seemed right. Anyway, it’s all fucking bollocks.” Dany doesn’t think he’s ever heard Lewis swear - Nico, sure. But then this is comfortably the most he’s ever heard Lewis say, outside a driver briefing or an interview. And he really needs to stop thinking about how short Lewis is because it’s actually kind of becoming distracting and.

Oh, being hated. He hadn’t quite processed things to that point - he knew some vengeful _gods_ must clearly fucking hate him but he’s been avoiding the press. But of course. And he knows - christ, he was going to have to follow this thought through soon enough but - he knows it’s probably why Dan isn’t texting him back. Not that Dan would - but he’s vulnerable now, too.

Lewis is staring at his own knuckles on his tattooed hand, “Yeah, not that good at advice, sorry. Like I said, only just realised I’m one of the old ones.”

“It just - it sucks that it happened like a punishment? Like a dog getting kicked out for pissing on the floor-”

“I would never do that to my dogs.” Lewis looks deeply, deeply offended and it takes Dany a moment to work out at what bit - which he thinks is ‘the entire canine genus.’

“Right.” Dany hands Lewis his glass for a recharge, trying not to think too much about the fact he’s got a three-time world champion playing sommelier, for some reason. “But you’re not an asshole.”

Lewis looks genuinely surprised, laughs explosively again, “Don’t get the Daily Mail in Russia, then?”

“The what?” Dany’s always tried to avoid the press, honestly. When you’re born in a country that had ripped itself apart from the remains of an empire four years previously, the news is a different experience. But he does know what the Mail is - and that Lewis would probably rather forget it.

“Just… be obnoxious. In your own way - I’m not saying you need to have a fight with Fernando or anything, that’s a fucking exhausting nightmare.” Dany’s eyes slide over to where Carlos and Fernando are with… ok, he’s really bad at popstars but he’s pretty sure either a popstar or a tennis player? Maybe both. “But make sure you’ve got enough of yourself to give them a mouthful when you make them eat it.”

Dany is suddenly extremely distracted by _surely he does not mean blow jobs_ and finds himself staring at Lewis in moderate alarm.

“Also, genuine word of advice, you need to get _dressed._ ” Lewis grabs a handful of Dany’s shirt and -how on earth can that patch still be wet for christ’s sake, it’s like 40 degrees- gives it a tug, tucking it in neater, “You look good sharp - it’s worth caring about. Sponsorship, if nothing else.”

Lewis hand is lingering on Dany’s hip, which is …he gets the feeling Lewis is quite touchy-feely, albeit only with a select few. Of which he is apparently now one. Which is an annoyingly good feeling - Lewis smiling at people is a bit of a megawatt effect he’s seen from a distance, before; even a completely furious Rosberg derailed by it. But it’s making him even warmer than the air was and also… pathetically _special?_ Like he’s literally being blessed by Lewis.

“Anyway, lecture over. What a shit of a race.” Dany is impressed by Lewis’ ability to one-handedly pour champagne and makes a mental note to practice it.

“Mmm. They usually are, these days.” He knows it sounds defeatist but he’s actually rather enjoying this weird ...conversation? Counselling session? Thing where Lewis strokes his waist in a soothing way?

“Won’t last. Never does, if you don’t settle for it - it’s where Nico goes wrong. Went wrong, maybe. Before. When it fucks up you just move on to the next one and if that fucks up, there’s the next one and if that fucks up there’s next year.” Lewis gives him a sort of pat that’s _slightly_ too close to Dany’s arse and _slightly_ too firm to not immediately bring up some complicated thoughts about spanking, “Nicole taught me this - just make sure you look amazing on the exit. No one remembers what happened before, they remember you looked in control when you got the plane. And uh - _sickening -_ preferably. But you probably need to work out your speed for that.”

Lewis is definitely stroking him again and he… isn’t sure whether he ought to reciprocate, whether Lewis is looking for contact - fuck, whether Lewis is _preying_ on him or something sick but he doesn’t think so. Up close, the guy is so fidget-y; bouncing back and forth on the balls of his feet a bit, an odd movement in smart shoes and it almost seems like he might take flight at any moment, rushing to a sponsor event or a date with a model or… the dog hairdresser?

“How are your dogs?” Dany has no idea, he realises, what their names are. He’s seen them, obviously and petted the big one once but it’s not like they work in the same garage.

Lewis _lights up_ and whips his phone out of his pocket immediately, like this is the question he has been waiting for his entire life. Dany attempts competent champagne pouring, alarmed to discover Lewis seems to have ordered a magnum, whilst Lewis (disappointingly) takes his hand off Dany’s waist to flick through what looks like several memory cards full of dog pictures.

Dany’s disappointed to lose the contact but Lewis doesn’t seem likely to run away, suddenly - so he waits through a couple of shots of the smaller dog rolling around with a Mercedes-branded water bottle and tries desperately to suppress the question _surely you did not name the big one after your teammate?_ Some things are so obviously no-thoughts-zones.

When he’s leant in far enough to look at Lewis’ phone that he’s fairly confident the older man can’t be too bothered by further contact, he uses the movement of passing Lewis a full glass to slide his arm around his waist. And ok, it’s not really comfy because there’s a pillar of the bar in the way and he didn’t really get the angle right anywhere but Lewis sort of _melts._

He actually looks up at Dany, eyes bright, and says “oh man,” in a kind of awed tone. It’s potentially the best Dany thinks he’s ever knowingly made someone else feel and he slightly can’t breathe, only partially to do with the Lewis sort of… snuggling up to his chest, under his arm.

“Hola!”

Jesus fucking christ. Just. He has absolutely no idea what the fuck is going on but it was _really nice_ for a second there and for the love of fuck is Fernando himself the vengeful god so hellbent on his destruction?

“Err, hi.” Lewis doesn’t move, if anything sort of… ok, he cannot possibly be grinding on him but something more like that than moving away, so Dany continues, “We are looking at Lewis’ dogs.”

“Jesus, you must truly fancy him. Felicitations, rookie- you’ve seduced the red peril!” Fernando leans up against the bar, looking more sober than he should, although Daniil feels it’s probably still not the exact moment to point out that Lewis is a three-time world champion and he was born in 1994.

“You know he named one after Nico?” And Dany is - ok, slightly grateful that Nando’s gone for this bullet.

“I did not! It’s just a cool name,” and Lewis is actually _definitely_ kind of snuggling into Dany and it’s unpleasantly warm and extremely nice, so he takes the opportunity to work his arm into a better position, where he can rest his hand on Lewis’ waist.

“Si, si, which is also Nico’s.” Fernando rolls his eyes elaborately, “You are the world’s most obvious man.”

“Where’s Carlos?” Dany’s hit by a pang of guilt about who he was actually _meant_ to be out with and who knows, maybe they could’ve given the snuggling another go, for old time’s sake.

“He’s, uh. He’s very well.” Fernando says it airily, with the sudden air of a slightly prude housewife, which sits badly on him.

Dany narrows his eyes - “ _Where?”_

“Oh, VIP - I’d, you know. Knock. He is quite the charmer, young Carlitos.” Dany scans the bar and notes a lack of the pop/tennis star which - well. Maybe they should talk about not snuggling other people until they’ve _definitely_ checked they don’t want to … snuggle each other but also that moment seems to have passed.

“What a slag,” Lewis says but in an impressedly affectionate tone. He’s genuinely nothing like Dany had assumed.

“Mmm, he is a gift to this world.” Fernando nods, almost paternally.

“ _Please_ tell me you’re not fucking him,” Lewis looks genuinely slightly appalled by the idea, “That’s like if DC fucked me, it’s just immoral. And you’re a fucked up guy!” The last bit escalates to a crescendo of Lewis throwing a napkin at a grinning Alonso.

“And you can fuck his teammate? You’re a fucked up dog-naming crazy guy, you don’t get to judge me.” Fernando is laughing, though and so is Lewis and Dany has _so many_ questions for the next time he sees Carlos, like ‘what the fuck man?’ and ‘since when?’ and he’s not too proud to add ‘what’s it _like?’_

“We haven’t fucked,” Dany wishes death on his mouth for its bizarre decision to defend his honour _right now._

Fernando looks at them a little dreamily unfocussed, “Oh god, that’s very beautiful. Lewis, you must stop this falling in love with people, it is terrible for your sense of humor.”

He pushes off the bar, heading away “I am going to mock Sebastian in the way he deserves, please have a very beautiful romance.”

“I don’t know what he’s talking about, man, like anyone could have a worse sense of humour than him,” Lewis actually seems a little bit… shy? And maybe it’s knowing Carlos is off somewhere but Dany physically aches with the need for someone to ...kiss or something. Go easy on him, it’s been a tough year.

He turns Lewis around in his arms, much more pliant and handsy and seductive than - ok, Dany had never even remotely imagined making out with Lewis, tattooed hand and dark fingers spread out across the still-fucking-slightly-damp, no-longer-very-white of his shirt. And Dany’s taller but Lewis is definitely in control, unmistakably grinding closer, now.

Lewis brings a hand up to trace Dany’s cheekbone and it’s… actually slightly horribly tense now- if they don’t kiss, there’s every chance Dany’s going to have a heart attack. And maybe also if they do? What the fuck is he doing? This guy is nine years older and a million races his senior and his heart is thumping and _so is Lewis’?_

“What Nando said about love - it’s not… it doesn’t have to be, to be good. To be worthwhile.” Lewis is looking at him very, very seriously, for all he can feel his heart racing, “For what it’s worth this will piss off so many haters; I’ll lend you a decent fucking jumper, too. And some non-grandad jeans”

Dany forgets to be offended, because Lewis is really _horribly_ beautiful and he thinks if he was Nico he probably would have either died or had to kill him a few years ago, at least.

“I have no idea what we’re doing,” He decides it’s probably better to confess.

Lewis shrugs, contentedly, “Do any of us, ever? Maybe Kimi, I guess. Kiss me, if you want to - it wasn’t what I was thinking of but I want it, now.”

It’s a complete mess - Lewis clearly is not used to the challenge of teeth -and extremely sweet and Dany feels it like electricity running through his body, hair standing up like a storm’s rolling in. It’s a shift in pressure and something breaks, somewhere, like summer rain.


End file.
